


the fallen hero haunts my thoughts.

by allisonogitsune



Category: teen wolf - Fandom
Genre: Allisaac, Allison as a ghost, Death, F/M, Gen, Ghost!Allison, Isaac Lahey going to France, Isaac Lahey post season 4, Other, RIP Allison Argent, Sad, mourn, mourning allison argent, mourning allison argent's death, post season 3B, references to Allisaac
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-05-10
Updated: 2014-06-24
Packaged: 2018-01-24 06:29:29
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,736
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1595018
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/allisonogitsune/pseuds/allisonogitsune
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>And I can't get away from the burning pain,</i>
  <br/>
  <i>I lie awake.</i>
  <br/>
  <i>And the fallen hero haunts my thoughts,</i>
  <br/>
  <i>How could you leave me this way?</i>
</p><p> </p><p>Isaac Lahey thought leaving for France with Chris Argent after the death of Allison would be good for him, but new problems ensue when he realizes the French Argent's have no idea about the changed code and images of Allison's ghost seem to haunt him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. idiot.

 

The first time he saw her, he thought he had gone crazy.

Having moved around a few times in the past year, Isaac Lahey had mastered the art of packing up. Check everywhere before you go, leave things you can acquire at the said destination back, and don’t think about it.  _Never_  think about it.

He hadn’t expected to see a long, familiar pair of legs in the middle of folding a shirt and he definitely didn’t expect them to belong to his dead girlfr- “ _whatever we are_ ” her voice echoed in his ears,  yeah, he didn’t expect to see her face again. Plump, pink lips, pale skin, warm brown eyes framed with big eyelashes. She didn’t look dead at all. 

So the shirt slipped out of his fingers right in front of his feet and his mind raced with the possibilities.

First one was that he had finally lost it, that the years of endless, systematic abuse and punishment had finally caught up to him, her death being the last straw. He was  _clinically insane,_  because turning into a werewolf and losing everything he had wasn’t hectic enough, he thought,  _another blow from life, a sick twisted joke._ Hallucinations. That didn’t scare him at all, he could get used to the fact that there was officially something wrong with the way his mind worked, that he was crazy. His father’s insults had prepared him to accept the fact that he was defected.

The second one was far more frightening, that they, in fact, hadn’t been able to destroy the nogitsune. That The Divine Move hadn’t worked at all, and this was just another trick he was playing on them. The beginning of a new game. The fox thought it would be funny, if he somehow took the shape of the broken boy’s love and appeared to him.

The first one he could deal with, but the second caused his heart to race.

She looked at him like a deer in headlights. 

His lips parted to yell, and the face of the girl standing in front of her –he struggled to call her Allison- curled into panic, like she was expecting for him to do that.

“Scott!” he yelled. He wanted to look away, but it was  _her_ , standing  _right there,_  she looked so much like  _her,_ shaking her head rapidly but no noise escaping her lips. “Scott!” Louder this time.

The door slammed open, Isaac turned to face Scott McCall, who was wearing an expression of panic. Scott looked ready to face whatever danger there was, ready to protect whoever was there to be protected. How easy it was to make him, or any of them, believe that something was wrong again.

“What’s going on?” Scott stepped to Isaac, a little out of breath. He must have been downstairs, Isaac thought.

“Look!” he turned, pointing to the empty space where she had been standing.

Long gone.

Scott glanced at the shirt on the floor, his face melting away to confusion. Isaac struggled to find the exact words for it and his mouth felt rough, like sandpaper. “I just saw her, Allison was right there!”, maybe?  _How about something that sounds less crazy?_   _Idiot,_ he added mentally.  _I’m a complete idiot._

He looked at the brunette boy’s face. Scott was still confused and Isaac didn’t know what to say, so instead he looked at the space again, just to make sure. He thought about telling Scott, his lips trembling now, but what would come out of it? Scott would remember, if he had been able to forget about it for a second, that is. He would remember her and more questions and concern for Isaac would ensue.  _Are you okay?_   _Are you sure?_ And the worst,  _what did she look like?_ Of course, the impregnable and undeniable fact that Allison's last words had been a profession of love to Scott, Isaac didn't wanna talk, or think, about  _that,_ either.

“Isaac,” Scott’s voice full of uncertainty broke Isaac’s chain of thoughts. He looked at Scott’s face one last time, his friend, his only friend in this damned town, and he decided he couldn’t hurt him.

So he decided to lie.

“I’m fine,” he dragged out the words slowly, glancing at the space again. “Sorry, I freaked out.”

Isaac knew Scott was now trying to decide if Isaac had lied or not, so he made an extra attempt to control his heartbeat and not to clench his jaw. A few seconds passed before Scott looked away, nodding reassuringly and stepping over to the edge of the bed, picking Isaac’s shirt off the floor and handing it to him.

“It’s okay,” Scott said softly, trying to fold the shirt with awkward moves of his hands. Scott wasn’t used to folding stuff, Isaac thought, because Melissa had been around to do that for him.  _Not for me._  Isaac snatched the shirt playfully off Scott’s hands, his face souring up in mocking disapproval to light the mood.

“You’re terrible at that,” Isaac spoke, folding the shirt quickly and stuffing it inside the bag on the floor. Scott grinned for a moment before he looked up at the boy, his voice trying to mask concern with nonchalance.

“I’ll stay till you’re finished.”

Isaac didn’t refuse. The only sign of gratitude he showed was a faint nod, because he knew, as much as it was a kind gesture, it was also a bait. If he said “thank you,” it would indicate that something really had been wrong and Scott would try to get it out of Isaac. So Isaac packed the rest of his bag with mechanic actions until it was done and Scott stayed quiet except occasional small talks to try to relax both of them.

“See you in the morning?” Scott asked. A rhetorical question as he got up to leave the room.

“You don’t have to wake up, I’m leaving really early,” Isaac replied, to which Scott smiled. Yeah, he was definitely waking up.

“Goodnight, Isaac.”

Door shut.

Isaac turned around slowly with closed eyes, holding his breath and leaning his head against the door before he opened them again. Empty space, and no Allison. A growl was sounded between his gritted teeth, he was disappointed in himself for hoping to find her there again. He turned off the lights before he peered the covers with quick and harsh actions and got in the bed, feeling something churn in the pit of his stomach that he couldn't put a name to. He let his gaze move around the room that had been his home for a couple of months, accidentally lingering on  _the spot_  a few extra seconds and with that he shut his eyes, turning around a bit as he tried to nestle himself against the bed.  _Don’t think about it. Think about France,_ he repeated over and over again.  _Try to think about leaving this place. Leaving everything behind._

Of course, that didn’t work.

“Fuck,” he muttered, as his eyelids opened and his gaze made it’s way in the darkness to where she stood, or where he had imagined her. She had been wearing a dark blue dress, similar to the one she was wearing when she had pulled a knife against his throat, the kind that sits on her tiny waist and spreads across her hips. The thought of this caused a smile creep up onto his lips, slowly at first, like grass sprouting between cement sidewalks downtown, but then everywhere and there he was, lying in bed dumbstruck about a girl who had taught him about Chinese ring daggers and French poems and neck kisses and kindness-

“No!” The word tore itself off his throat. He hadn’t meant to say it out loud. 

He listened in for a few seconds to see if he had woken anyone up, before he sighed, burying the back of his head further into the pillow.

“Idiot,” he thought for the second time that night, but this time, out loud. "I'm a complete idiot."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm really upset about Allison's death and Isaac leaving the show. I think Isaac was treated like he wasn't important for the show for the last bits, and I am really angry about the way Allisaac was treated like it never happened. I think Allison and Isaac deserve a closure. So have this, I have a lot of plans for it.


	2. goodbyes.

Isaac hadn’t had much sleep that night, _surprise, surprise,_ and his limbs weren’t cooperating. He had already accidentally slammed a door and dropped the toothpaste off his toothbrush- _twice_. To his surprise, both Scott _and_ Melissa were wide awake. Melissa looked alarmingly happy, it made Isaac nervous.

“All we have is Fruity Loops,” Melissa said, standing on her toes and looking through the cupboard, her head half buried in it. “Your last morning- all we have is Fruity Loops.”

Now her voice was alarmingly frustrated.

The fact that she knew his favorite cereal wasn’t Fruity Loops made the corners of Isaac’s lips twitch up, but only for a second, then he looked at Scoot, and Scott looked at Isaac, both sat on the kitchen table and they changed a what-do-we-do kind of look as Melissa McCall rambled into the cupboard about how she should have gone to the grocery store yesterday. If Isaac was raised in the conventional style, maybe, he would know how to try to comfort Melissa, but he didn’t know how. So Scott did it instead.

“Mom,” he got up, wrapping his arm around her wrist gently. Melissa turned to him with a glint in her eyes.

“Fruity Loops is fine.” This time it was Isaac. Melissa turned to him and Isaac smiled at her, as sincerely as he could muster. She looked like she was going to break for a second before she closed her eyes, opening them with a relieved expression and a small smile, nodding.

“Fruity Loops is fine,” she repeated under a breath before placing the cardboard box on the table. The following half an hour was spoons clinging against bowls, rainbow colored cereal slipping through lips and _awful_ small talk, like if they all rested well, when his flight was, how long it would take.

When they heard a honk outside the house, they all assumed it was Chris and the air seemed to hang still. Because she didn’t know what to do, Melissa pulled her chair away with a loud noise, hurrying towards the door and while mumbling about how it was too early to honk. Isaac focused his eyes on the puddle of blue milk in his bowl and felt his palm sweat around the spoon, it was time for goodbyes. He had never been good at closures and he couldn’t make words sound like poetry; he could only muster half mumbled words and gawky waves _. See,_ he thought, _this is what you could be doing with your time not sleeping last night. Thinking about what you were going to say to Melissa and Scott._  He heard the door close, and he rose to his feet. _But you chose to think about a dead girl. How very romantic, dumbass._ Luckily, though instead of the sound Chris Argent’s confident steps alongside Melissa’s, he heard feet merely shuffle against the floor, off beat and ungainly.

A skinny boy walked into the kitchen after Melissa. Puffy eyes and pajama bottoms, Stiles Stilinski looked like hell.

 “Stiles?”

 “Fruity Loops!” he exclaimed as he put his hand on Scott’s shoulder, the other one reaching over to get a good spoonful of his cereal. That was the good thing about Stiles, Isaac thought, he could light up any situation with but his presence and a few words.

“I thought you didn’t like me,” Isaac said, his lips almost curled into a smirk. Almost.

“Yeah, well,” Stiles said, placing the spoon back into Scott’s bowl, his mouth still filled with half chewed cereal as he spoke. “Have you packed all your scarves?”

A laugh from all of them, uneasy, but nevertheless, a laugh.

A car engine sounded outside the door a little later. Melissa and Stiles hadn’t heard it, but Isaac and Scott both heard the cat-like purr of the car; honk wasn’t Argent-like, but approaching cautiously with barely any noise being made, Isaac was sure it was him. He got up, placing the chair back in before grabbing his bag over his shoulder and walking towards the door, with everyone following behind.

Chris was already out of his car, standing in front of the car. He walked over, greeting Scott and Stiles with a single nod, his eyes flickering between the two boys. He offered his hand at Melissa for a firm shake before he spoke.

“All ready?” he asked, to which Isaac nodded. He tried to focus solely on the movement of his hands –open trunk, throw bag in, close trunk – before he turned to the ones he’d leave behind.

Scott first.

A hug, a big, tight hug from both of them that they struggled to pull out from. No words exchanged, because a hug was enough to say it all. Words had a way of ruining moments like this, and he wasn’t the one to ramble.

With Melissa, it was a gentler hug, she was already crying, and he clenched his jaw and tried not to cry himself. _Be strong,_ he repeated to himself. He was thankful to this kind woman who had opened her home for him without hesitation and treated him like her own. He felt her shake, and he held her tighter for a second before leaning back. Words lumped in his throat, he wasn’t sure if he could speak. _You have to thank her._

“Thank you,” he didn’t mean his voice to sound that weak. “For everything.”

Melissa took a deep breath, lifting her hands to wipe her cheek, her own voice cracking.

“Write to us,” she looked Isaac dead in the eye, grabbing his shoulders, her next words sounded like a plead.

“Be good.” With that she pulled away.

Stiles was a little easier for Isaac, since they never were as close. Stiles was the first one to speak.

“I hear French people love scarves,” he said, his voice a little softer than normal, but sarcastic, nevertheless. “Throw a baguette under your arm and you’ll blend right in.”

“Try not to get possessed.” Isaac grinned, to which Stiles rolled his eyes at with parted lips.

“Low blow.”

Isaac tried not to look at Scott or Melissa as he made his way to the car in which Chris was already in, he set in the passenger side and buckled up. He rolled his window down quickly and felt his throat burn, he’d never said goodbye to people he loved before. He had to hold it together because he didn’t want Melissa and Scott see him sad and he didn’t want Chris to think he was weak, so he balled up his wrists as Chris pulled back with the car, and Isaac saw Scott wrap his arm around Melissa. His hand shakingly lifted to a wave, gawky like he had expected, and he waved until the McCall house was out of the view. Chris nodded at him, Isaac figured this was the way the old man was trying to reassure him. Not knowing what to say, he turned his eyes to the houses they were passing, his hands on his lap, fingers fidgeting with each other and wondering why he still felt like there was something he had forgot, an unsaid goodbye.

 As they passed the old Argent house, not the flat, he was thankful Chris wasn’t a werewolf to hear his heart flutter in his chest. _That’s it._ His eyes moved over the house; the window in Allison’s room he’d often use to enter the house and the front door he’d not-so-often use, the patch of bushes he’d jump in when he heard Chris come up the stairs to check on Allison and the empty space where Allison used to park her car. Chris had sold her car right away. He watched the house get smaller and smaller in the side mirror, first a little dot in the reflection, and then nothing. All Isaac could think about was her now, like a thick gray smoke that had seeped into his head, she was blocking everything; staring at the road ahead but seeing her and listening to the smooth engine running but hearing her spill his name out of her lips.

“I’m gonna sleep till we get to the airport,” he spoke - a lie, he knew he wouldn’t get an ounce of sleep- and closed his eyes without waiting for Chris’ response.

And then, only then, he let the final, unsaid goodbye echo through his mind.

_Goodbye, Allison._


End file.
